


Chocolate

by WrittenTales



Series: Dreamwidth BBC Musketeer Fills [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:33:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7268407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrittenTales/pseuds/WrittenTales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Athos hasn't seen chocolate in many years and decides to share it with his comrades.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by prompt on dreamwidth  
> (I had the song arctic by sleeping at last on loop while I wrote this...I believe it makes the reading experience better, you guys should totally listen to that amazing song while reading this! :D )

A few days after the Comtesse de Larroque incident, and deciding to stay in the rather aristocratic section of France for a little while longer, Athos happens to walk by a shop he’s sure he hasn’t seen in many years.

It’s not the particular store that jogs his memory, but the fine-crafted brown treats in the colorful window display. The delicate swirls of white on the top, ones that are round, some that are square, even those with carefully drawn images of flowers and morphing lines amidst the hundreds of fresh pastries. The long absence from the rich man’s cuisine has Athos confused as to what it could be, yet it’s on the tip of his tongue.

The thought of it is so compelling that Athos finds himself stepping into the bakery, being hit with a strong scent of sugar and warm bread. It brings back a childhood long forgotten, whenever his father would visit Paris with Thomas and Athos by his side to see the King. While he would have his meetings with the French Royal Court, he would give Athos, the oldest a few coins and the permission to tread only a few miles from the Palace. Usually, Thomas chose to watch the wild performances on the streets while Athos chose to indulge in the only delicacy fit for Kings and the filthy rich, candy.

As he walks pass the shelves filled with different sweets--he wouldn’t dare to admit it to even God if he were to come down from heaven himself—a few tears come to his eyes as the nostalgia makes his chest constrict. He remembers when his father used to be furious at his two children when they would come back later than the time he given them, faces smeared with melted goodies, and high on nothing worse than devilish sugar. Athos could have been beaten for disobeying his father by keeping him waiting, but his father passed it off as child’s play when Thomas would be bouncing the whole ride back, filling both their ears with whimsical nonsense that his father believed it to be punishment enough.

A young man emerges from the back, perhaps the kitchen, immediately looking towards the inventory. He was wiping his hands on a clean rag, not noticing Athos until he turns around, jumping back as he’s startled by the distracted musketeer. “Hello, Monsieur.” He calls out, breaking Athos from his trance. “May I be of service?”

Athos looks towards the black-haired boy, blue eyes shining with aristocratic innocence. His frame was thin, his arms were soft, and his skin was pale and untouched, as if his body knew nothing of the hard life of Paris. He was no previous beggar, that’s for sure. He clears his throat before he speaks, his eyes already dried, “I’m afraid I haven’t seen a certain item in your establishment in years, curiosity has compelled me to find out what it is.”

Perhaps Athos is too much a soldier at heart as the boy seems very intimidated, clutching the small rag tightly in his hands. “Show me then?”

Athos leads the boy to the display, asking again about the small, beautiful brown treats. “Oh, that’s chocolate Monsieur.” He chuckles, and Athos can’t help but feel a little embarrassed as the name washes over his head in a cold wave up his neck. “They were made just this morning, the bars are cooling in the wind.”

Athos doesn’t know how long he stays talking with the boy, who seems to be so educated on the whole topic of sugary delights, describing and explaining the different candies to Athos in elaboration. Eventually he compels Athos enough that when Porthos, Aramis, and d’Artagnan enter his mind, he has to purchase two of the different chocolate bars. This is what he remembers as the greatest part of his childhood, and his feels more than eager to pass on the opportunities that he believes wasn’t experienced by his fellow comrades.

Roger the horse gets Athos to the garrison before nightfall, the two chocolate bars were covered in cool cloth so it doesn’t melt in his pack from the terrible summer heat. The three men that he wants to see are sitting at the tables, playing cards in what was left of the dimming Paris light. Men are cleaning up the training yard, and some are just enjoying the evening, but with the arrival of Athos, it causes everything to diminish to silence before it resurrects back to light noise when they realize it’s him.

“Thought you abandoned us for a woman!” Porthos comments when he sees Athos walking towards them, laughing when he slams his winning hand on the table in front of d’Artagnan and Aramis, both musketeers squinting their eyes at the larger man.

“I believe that’s enough fun for tonight.” Aramis says as he watches Porthos collect his small bounty.

“But we were just gettin’ started!” Porthos exclaims but he doesn’t push it when Aramis gets up, widening his arms to greet their mellow friend. D’Artagnan kicks Porthos’ shin under the table mouthing ‘cheater’ when the older musketeer glares at him.

“My dear Athos, what is this you have in your hand?” Aramis questions, the recognition never comes despite when Athos unwraps the cloth and reveals the pretty yellow and purple printed paper underneath.

“Come bearing gifts?” Porthos asks, placing the coins in his pouch.

“Just a show of my appreciation.” Athos places the two bars in the middle of the table, opening the wrapper of the dark chocolate first, his favorite, and breaking it apart in several small pieces. “Take one.” He encourages.

“How much did this cost you?” d’Artagnan asks in awe, taking a square and inspecting the amount of intricate designs in just one piece of the chocolate. “It’s fancy.”

Aramis takes a piece rather enthusiastically, taking a swift lick as he sits next to Athos. “What do they call it?” He bites off an edge, humming in interest as the chocolate melts in his mouth the second it hits his tongue. “And why hasn’t it graced my lips in my entirety in Paris?”

“It’s dark chocolate. I was surveying the Comtesse’s home when the King’s men were taking her belongings to be sold. There was a bakery not so far away, and I happened to wonder in. I remember eating it as a child and as it **is** expensive, I just wanted to have a taste of it and I thought you all might enjoy it as well.” Athos watches Porthos’ cautious hesitation as he reaches for a square, with amusement.

He puts the small piece of chocolate under his nose to smell it, the square already starting to sweat between his fingers. “It smells terrible.” Porthos grunts, but he doesn’t want to be rude and so he puts all of it in his mouth, so he can get it over with.

His face screws up into one of disgust, “And it’s bitter.”

“I agree with Porthos.” D’Artagnan tries to place his piece back on the wrapper but Aramis steals it whilst he’s licking it off some of the chocolate from his fingers. “I’m guessing this is a royal delicacy?”

Athos licks chocolate off his fingers as well, going for another. “I’ve never seen it at the palace, perhaps the King uses it as a hors d'oeuvre. Though cocoa is an expensive trade item on the market, it’s rare in Paris, but few stores make and sell them and only in the wealthiest of towns, so yes.”

“Well it’s too rich for my blood.” Porthos plays with the sticky substance left on his fingers, putting it to his lips and tasting it now, it doesn’t taste as strong as before, it almost tastes pleasant.

Athos opens the second bar when he and Aramis are almost finished with the last of it, and the small rectangular bar is brighter than the last, and within it, hazelnuts. “You’ll probably like the milk chocolate more, dark chocolate is only kind to a specific few.” Athos smirks, remembering that Thomas and both their parents described dark chocolate as the absolute **worst** thing they’ve ever tasted. So he had purchased the milk one learning well from past experiences.

As he breaks the bar into multiple pieces, Aramis seems to become greedier with this one and Porthos and d’Artagnan seem a bit a more pleased, until d’Artagnan spits out the hazelnuts into his hand. “It’s good but would have been better without the peanuts.” He smiles, Porthos snags a piece from Aramis’ hand, complaining that he’s going to eat all of it.

“They’re hazelnuts.” Athos corrects.

“Doesn’t make a difference.”

“Let’s just say that the pup is closed-minded.” Aramis jokes, knowing the comment would ruffle d’Artagnan’s feathers.

“It’s not that I’m closed-minded, I just don’t like peanuts—“

Athos pinches the bridge of his nose, “ _Hazelnuts,_ d’Artagnan.”

“Hazel-whatever.” He grumbled and brushes off the entire situation with a few brandish waves of his hand.

Athos shakes his head, knowing that his propriety for political correctness and perfect grammar will be the death of him. He concluded that you may just never get it right with a Gascon.

But he’s content, and it feels like the spirit of his family is here, sitting with him. Memories of when times were easier, happier, and it’s not like he doesn’t wish for those moments back every time it crosses his mind. But every time he hears Porthos’ boom of a laugh, shakes his head at Aramis’ fearless nature, and when young d’Artagnan follows at his heels, it’s a different type of home, and a different type of family.

He was arranged to marry before his father became ill, Athos’ mother dismissing the marriage ceremony entirely when he died. They expected him to marry a fine girl, have a life like any ordinary man of nobility, to keep their proud name in dignity. And as he knows that his birth family would look down upon his current one, which was not of blood or marriage bound, but of brotherhood, he wouldn’t replace these three for anything the world had to offer him.

He looks back at the boy in the bakery, seeing himself like him when he was still under his father’s strict rules and under the nobility privilege. Living the life of dirt and how much he had to transform in order to serve under Treville’s guard was not an easy feat, perhaps one of the hardest challenges of his life was learning how to sleep on thin hard mattresses and adapting to wearing clothes that stayed dirty for weeks at a time. The adventure of a soldier was not a life for everyone, how many great aspiring men Athos has seen enter the garrison and leave soon before their commission was not uncommon, a few times he wanted to leave and never look back.

But it was the down moments like these that made the job easier and made him look forward to each day when he thought at one point in his long miserable period that he would never see life the same way again, and it didn’t matter of the coin he spent on the chocolate. All that mattered to him was that his family was here, for however long he had left with them, and that they were safe and happy for the time being. Enjoying each other’s company.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a hard time writing most fluff, usually it ends up coming flat so it would be greatly appreciated if you guys can tell me how you liked it and what I could improve on!


End file.
